


Party of Three, Now It's Just You and Me

by Kittenfightclub



Category: Death Machine (1994)
Genre: Blackouts, Cale is a sweetie pie, Gen, Memory Loss, Panic Attacks, Unreliable Narrator, Violence, attempted suicide, but its not really graphic, mentions of past death, not an Everyone Lives AU, past trauma, the power of FRIENDSHIP!, vague hospital stuff that i neglected to explain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 20:17:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11215533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittenfightclub/pseuds/Kittenfightclub
Summary: Raimi needs help to pick himself back up after loss, and Cale uses helping to distract herself from her own problems.





	Party of Three, Now It's Just You and Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a good way to spend the hours of 12-5 am, but that's what I did anyways. It's Hannah's fault for even suggesting the idea of anything less than an everyone lives! au, tbfh
> 
> (There are two jokes in this entire fic, and writing them actually made me kms- one is the title, referencing the fact that Party of Three by NSP is in my playlist and always seemed to play whenever I got to a dramatic part)

After being discharged from the hospital, Raimi went straight home. He shared a small apartment with Weyland and Yutani, and surely the place would be trashed, but he wasn’t going to worry about that. He wanted to sleep, in his bed, and see his friends- they were what he missed the most.

-They never visited him in the hospital, but Raimi didn’t blame them, surely they were busy, and dealing with their own issues.

 

He knew them so well, because they had known each other for what seemed like ages, and if Raimi was being brutally honest with himself: they were his only friends. Yutani had been his confidant in middle school, and Raimi had been his in return. They were best friends even still, in their twenties, and they did everything together. 

They knew every inch of each other, and it was all they needed. Weyland had been a later addition, they met him in college,, but they loved him no less, and soon Raimi had his friends, his partners, his lovers- the people he was prepared to spend the rest of his life with. He had them, and he would never lose them.

 

.

 

Walking was exhausting, or, at least, more exhausting than Raimi remembered it to be. Driving was even more so, or maybe he was just more tired than he realized.

Raimi slammed shut the door to his apartment.

He called out “G’night Weyland! Yutani!” to his best friends, despite the fact that it was only mid-day. He splashed some water on his face, took off his pants, tucked himself into the cold, neatly made bed, and went to sleep.

 

.

 

When he woke up, it was to a thin film of darkness, slowly seeping into the room until it was suffocatingly dense. Usually when he woke it was to chattering and clashing from their small kitchenette, since Raimi usually slept the latest, and the silence was unnerving. But, besides that, Raimi had to piss. 

When he fumbled around in the dark for the door, he hit his knee on a chair and cursed. Their apartment was too small, especially too small for three people (it had been built for one). It was claustrophobic; it was pushing in around him and Raimi had no where else to go. They only had four rooms: the living area, the kitchenette, the bedroom -which only fit one bed-, and the restroom. 

 

He went and pissed, and then returned to bed. He looked behind himself, and walked faster. He was halfway to the bed when he stopped, and fell to the floor, curling up in a small fit of panic. Something was following him, someone was in his apartment, someone was there, and all the walls were pressing down, and Raimi couldn’t  _ breathe. _

He took a breath, and then another slower one. He picked himself up.

 

.

 

When he next woke up, it was not to the sound of bickering and the clattering of dishes, it was to the sound of the doorbell ringing. Raimi groaned, and stretched, but the groan soon turned into a smile and Raimi picked himself up. He fumbled his way to the living area, pantsless, slightly dragging a leg, and with half-lidded eyes. Yutani had probably forgotten his key again, he did that a lot; maybe he had brought back breakfast.

 

He unlocked the door and took a step back, yawning. Even this mundane task was tiring for him, and even after the months in the hospital, his memory wasn’t any better; he didn’t remember much of the day before at all. He remembered getting home, then he went to sleep; he remembered being unbelievably exhausted, and yawned again at the thought.

 

Even thinking is harder now, and while Raimi never thought through things much at all before, now he is forced to. He is forced to think of the future, and how to be sociable, not just hole himself up in the apartment, and what he can accomplish with what energy he has in a day. What had the therapist called it? Spoons? Raimi honestly didn’t remember that either; he couldn’t remember a lot of what he had learned in therapy, so he doubted it would help much. 

 

He remembered learning about loss, and grief, and depression. How friendships, romantic endeavors, marriages, would all end eventually, and how to deal with that. The woman had taught him about his memory loss, how there was nothing to do to fix it, but how he should still be aware of what he could be forgetting. Raimi had thought that a particularly useless conversation, one he was not bothered by forgetting.

 

.

 

Raimi turned his back and went into the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing for a carton of orange juice- there was none, they must have been out.

“Did you get any O.J.?” he called out to Yutani, who he heard bustling around in the sitting room.

 

“No, but there should be some  _ Kale Blazer  _ in there!” There was a laugh, a stoic one, just like Raimi remembered Yutani laughing, if only a little more high pitched, and smiled despite himself.   
  
“That’s disgusting!” Raimi grabbed it anyways and slammed the door of the fridge to emphasize his point. Yutani must have turned the lights on, because when Raimi walked back the way he came to plop down onto his usual, beaten down spot in the couch, he was squinting to see. He wiped at his eyes and twisted open the juice, which let out a satisfying crack-   
  
-of bone. He remembered the sound but he couldn’t see, his mind was blank, a spot where there were no memories. Ripping, tearing, shredding of clothing, flesh, and the cracking of bone. He didn’t want to understand, he didn’t want to understand, he just wanted to open his eyes, and stop the shaking -everything was shaking, the whole house was shaking and Raimi couldn’t see-. He just wanted to drink his fucking juice.

 

He slammed his head down on the small side table,  _ too hard _ . It hurt and Raimi didn’t notice the tears running down his face until it was too late. The bottle of  _ Naked _ fell on the floor and spilled around his bare feet. 

He heard movement, but he couldn’t move. His head hurt, and his hands hurt where they clenched at the wood, and then everything hurt. Raimi knew it was coming, he wondered if he would remember any of the pain. He didn’t want to remember the pain. 

 

.

 

When he woke up again he was back in bed; he was alone; it reminded him of the hospital, but there were not even any nurses. There was a damp cloth on his forehead, still slightly cold. He wondered how long he had been out. 

He wondered why they hadn’t warned him about these blackouts- or that maybe they had, and he just didn’t remember. 

 

He wondered why he was living, and he wondered why he wondered why he was left living. 

 

Raimi wondered how he had gotten into the bed.   
  
Someone entered the room, their shoulder length hair falling down to their shoulders. Weyland. Raimi groaned but forced a smile past the lingering pain.

 

“Welcome home.” The voice was unfamiliar, it wasn’t Weyland’s, just like Yutani’s hadn’t been quite Yutani’s. It was too forceful, and not enough of Weyland’s usual muted drawling- or maybe Raimi had forgotten that too, maybe he had forgotten what his lovers’ voices sounded like, it wouldn’t be the most surprising thing. It wouldn’t be the worst thing that he had lost.   
  
“Thanks?” Raimi groaned, trying to squint his eyes open and failing. 

 

He was lethargic, and his head was pounding. He had never felt like this- he never remembered feeling like this before. He didn’t want to move; he didn’t want to joke or laugh or talk. He hadn’t felt this before, but he had talked about it hadn’t he? He tried to remember, a word floated through his consciousness, landing on the tip of his tongue but he did not speak it: “ _ depression”. _

 

But, why?   
  


“Did you sleep well?”   
  
“Sure.. not really.” 

 

But why?   
  
“I made your bed.. I thought you might appreciate it..”

  
“It was… yeah, thanks man.” 

 

_ But why? _   
  
“I… I’m glad you’re okay, Raimi-” there were tears, Raimi could feel pressure building behind the woman’s voice until it burst and tears trickled down her cheeks. She sounded like his therapist, but she wasn’t- the therapist never cried, and she never laughed- he had heard someone laugh- he had heard Yutani laugh- no, he had heard the woman laugh, trying to make light of their horrible predicament. He had never heard her laugh before, but he knew the voice.   
  
_ I’m _ so glad, she had said, there was no  _ we _ . It was then that Raimi remembered that there would be no more  _ us,  _ no more  _ we,  _ no more, no more, no more,  _ no more.  _ No more love. No more friendship. Just the fool who had lived, and his depression. He didn’t care- or rather he didn’t want to care, didn’t want to have to care. 

 

 

Everything was pressing down on his from above and Raimi didn’t care. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see, and his heart beat so fast it hurt. Something was wet, wiping over his face-  _ suffocating him _ , and Raimi let it. Then the sensation was gone, and the walls loosened, and Raimi tried as hard as he could not to breathe. He didn’t want to feel.

 

_ He was alone _ .

 

“Raimi, hey, are you okay?” The voice. “Are you okay?”   
  
_ He is alone. _

 

“Raimi.. I’m gonna be right back.. I’m gonna go grab your medicine.”   
  
_ Alone. _   
  
.

  
When he wasn’t in the bed when she came back, Cale knew where to look, because she knew how it felt. She knew what loss was, she had felt it. She knew what guilt was, she had experienced it. She knew Raimi.   
  
She found him in the bathtub, curled up, clutching a blade to his chest. It wasn’t a sharp blade, but she knew he could make it work. He wouldn’t have the chance.    
“Sam-”   
  
“Hayden.” A glint of the blade, and Cale was wrestling with him, pinning his arms down to the floor of the tub. Prying it out of his hand. There was blood, it wasn’t her own, it was Raimi’s. His fingers, sliced with gashes, leaking red, but it wouldn’t kill him. 

She threw the blade aside and sat up, no longer pinning Raimi, but restricting him.

 

Raimi _ kicked and shoved _ . Cale hit her head on the wall and sat still for a moment, recovering, as Raimi pulled himself up to his knees. He couldn’t stand any further- it hurt. He fell. Then, he rose back to his knees.

 

He punched until his fist was bloody. Bright red seeping out of the gashes in his fingers, dripping from inside, and dark red- flesh- peeling back- bruises- red- black- blue- yellow- green- his knuckles bleeding and bruised. He punched the wall until cracks began to form in the tile and grout flaked off, spiraling through the air before landing like dry, gray ashes on the ceramic.

_ “It hurts. Loss hurts _ __  
_                               Raimi... _ _  
_ __                                            Raimi! Stop!

_Fucking stop, okay?_ __  
_They’re dead,_ __  
_But you’re not,_ __  
_I can’t lose you.”_ __  
  


He didn’t stop until Cale had his arms pinned down to his sides, a practiced postion- she had taken martial arts classes- Yutani used to try the same moves on him, but they never hurt- nothing had ever hurt like  _ this. _ __  
__  
Raimi collapsed to the floor exhausted, wracking with sobs, and clenching his bloodied fist to his chest. There was blood everywhere, but Raimi wouldn’t panic- he wouldn’t let himself panic. He closed his eyes and tensed his entire body. Then, he was cold, and wet. It soaked his clothes until his white shirt was practically plastered to his chest and his hair was heavy with it..

 

_. _

 

He woke up. He was in bed. He was dry. He was naked. When he opened his eyes, he saw his clothes thrown in the corner, still damp. He couldn’t have been asleep too long. 

 

He didn’t notice Hayden approaching until she had his hands held tightly in her own, and was standing almost too close. When she spoke it was hardly more than a whisper,

 

“It’s okay…”   
  
Raimi said nothing back, but she hardly expected him too.   
  


“Or… it’s not okay, but it’ll be okay eventually. I promise… you’re not alone.” And then she smiled, and Raimi caught the glint in her eye and lit up like dead brush. “You’ll never have to be alone.”

 

It was Hayden Cale, and she was going to take care of him, and she was going to love him. That’s what she said. She was going to ironically buy him weird health juices, and make him pancakes, and hold him close beneath freezing cold shower spray on bad days. That was what she showed him: that she cared.

 

He hadn’t known her long- and he definitely didn’t love her; he had lost too much. But maybe he could learn to.

 

__  
__  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I didn't do too much medical research for this, but uhh memory loss is probably the result of the Hardman suit. The blackouts are probably a result of whatever drug Raimi is using to self medicate (and then forgets that he took). Or he has dementia from head trauma... that's also an option.


End file.
